


Here is Gone

by Jya



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Reconciliation, Tears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5756146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jya/pseuds/Jya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You can't replay history. He wasn't foolish enough to believe that he could. But somehow, there was still a glimpse of light. An echo of a whisper telling him that maybe a new script could be drafted, a new story written.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"SARUHIKO!"

The rough and yet somehow desperate voice ripped down the hall and into his range of hearing. He couldn't be far away. That was the second time today he'd heard his first name shouted from afar like that, a sentiment that didn't often occur, as none of his coworkers would consider calling him that. They knew all too well of the death glare that would most certainly ensue. And yet somehow, that glare fell on blind eyes in the past when set on this particular individual who so casually chose to throw his first name about.

"SARUHIKO!"

"Is that for you?" The nurse currently tending to him asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

"It would seem that way," he muttered in response, too tired to conjure up a twisted response to the obviousness lingering in the air.

"He is disrupting the entire floor. I'm going to have to ask him to leave." The nurse said, poking her head around the door.

"He'll disrupt more then the floor if you try to force him to leave," Fushimi replied distantly, not looking up at her.

She gave no indication that she'd heard him, but turned the corner and began to speak loudly.

"EXCUSE ME SIR! You can't be shouting on this floor. You are disrupting a number of sick and tired patience. Please remove yourself from the premise."

"Tell me where Fushimi Saruhiko is!" He demanded. "I will find him with or without your help!"

They were right outside Fushimi's door now, and he'd heard enough. "Be quiet, idiot," straining his voice enough for Yata to hear.

"Saruhiko!" Yata exclaimed, rushing around the corner.

"I'll keep him quiet," Fushimi said as the nurse opened her mouth to object.

She said nothing, simply turning on her heel and exiting the room.

"If you start crying I'm going to throw you out," Fushimi said as Yata's eyes began to leak tears, though Fushimi wasn't sure if they were tears of joy or tears of sadness. Regardless, he didn't have the energy to deal with it at the moment.

"Look at you, you're a mess," Fushimi said as Yata approached him. His once very direct beeline to Fushimi had become much more hesitant, and now he looked almost afraid to get close to him.

"The whole place collapsed. I had no idea if you had made it out or not, and all I could think about was what an idiot I was to leave you there," Yata was frantic.

"Sit down," Fushimi said, gesturing to the chair beside his bed.

"I found the blue king and all he said was that you'd be taken to the hospital."

"And you didn't think to maybe check yourself in as well?" Fushimi asked, eyeing they blood caked on Yata's eyebrow as well as the cuts and bruises littering his body.

"I'm fine," he insisted. "What about you?'

Fushimi was laying in a propped up hospital bed clad in a gown matching the color of the bed sheets. The wound on his leg had been cleaned and bandaged, and the limb now lay atop several pillows, bent at the knee. He had bandages covering his left arm as well as several small cuts on his head and neck. He had a blood pressure cuff wrapped around his right bicep and several wires attached to his chest and back, not to mention the annoying monitor clipped to his left index finger obstructing his entire hand. He had grown bored watching the monitors on the screen above him, and chose now to simply ignore them.

"I'm alright," Fushimi said, hearing the strain in his own voice. "Cuts and bruises." He did his best to convince Yata that his words were in fact true.

"What about your leg? You lost a lot of blood."

"I'm not sure. They stopped the bleeding but I'm waiting on a doctor for more tests apparently. Stop worrying!" Fushimi said sternly, noting the expression on Yata's face.

"Gah!" Yata shook his head roughly. "It's been a long fucking day, alright?"

"Tell me about it," Fushimi said, relaxing back into his bed. "So the Slates were successfully destroyed then?"

"As far as I know," Yata said. "We did what the Silver king asked and his sword definitely fell."

"But you ran off before you were debriefed?"

"I was a bit preoccupied," Yata said quietly, pulling his knees up to his chest. He looked like he was going to cry again.

Fushimi let out a heavy sigh. He was about to open his mouth to ask what his problem was when the nurse walked stormed back in.

She looked as though she was about to scold one or both of them, when her eyes fell on Yata, curled up in the chair, looking like nothing more than a scared, injured child compared to the obnoxious man who had held up the floor only minutes ago. Yata did not look up at her.

The nurse looked from Yata to Fushimi, who shrugged, then to Fushimi's monitor.

A second nurse turned the corner, this one male. She had obviously called for reinforcements. "Everything alright here?" He asked.

"His blood pressure is finally down," she said, pressing a button that elicited a long beep as Fushimi's blood pressure cuff inflated. "So is his heart rate."

Fushimi knew what she was insinuating, and he felt his cheeks heat up slightly, wondering if his face could even draw colour with the lack of blood in his body.

"So the noisy one stays?" The man asked.

"He's fine," Fushimi said. "Aside from the fact that he probably needs medical attention himself."

The nurses looked at each other, then the female tilted his head in the direction of Yata.

"Alright, I'll get him a chart," the nurse said, and the both ducked out of the room.

"I don't need medical attention," Yata insisted quietly, but his quick change in demeanor suggested otherwise, and Fushimi half wondered if he needed to be treated for shock.

"Just let them look at that cut," Fushimi said. Yata's eyes did not leave the floor. "Then we can talk more," he said quietly. This caught Yata's attention. Fushimi flashed him a quick reassuring glance as the nurse reentered the room with a clipboard. It felt strange and unusual to be civil to Yata… but there was something comforting about having him there. Obviously his monitor was proof of that.

The nurse poked and prodded at Yata, checking him for injuries and asking him about a million questions, testing his balance, his vision, then bringing in a cart to test his heart rate, blood pressure and breathing.

Once she'd decided that he was in alright shape, she cleaned the cuts on his forehead and knee and bandaged them.

"The doctor should be back in a bit with your test results," the nurse finally said to Fushimi. "Press the button if you need anything."

"Happy?" Yata asked him, forcing all the glare he could possibly muster, which wasn't much, into his expression. He looked exhausted.

"Yep," Fushimi said. "So was everyone ok? Anna and Kusanagi and those guys?"

"Yeah everyone made it out. What about you? How did you get out?"

Fushimi considered telling him that he almost hadn't made it, but seeing the mental state of his old comrade, he decided against it. "The Captain had an escape route set up for me once I'd shaken off all the Greens. He also sent you in after me, didn't he?"

"Why do you think that?" Yata asked, already picking at the bandages on his knee.

"It's not like you were smart enough to figure it out on your own," Fushimi pushed.

"No, for your information he did not send me in there. He came and asked me – " Yata paused.

"What?"

"He told me that you had joined JUNGLE on his orders. He asked me if I thought that you would betray him and really join JUNGLE to save your own ass."

Fushimi clicked his tongue amusedly. "So what did you say?"

"I didn't really say anything," Yata said, his gaze once again narrowing on the floor. "I'd only just found out what you'd done. I'd only just realized that you weren't actually a traitor. And that you never were."

"So you decided on your own to come after me?" Fushimi asked.

"Obviously, idiot," Yata spat. "You may have been worth more points than me, but you can't take those guys on alone!"

Fushimi knew there was no point in starting an argument, and he really didn't have the energy to do so. Furthermore, he knew Yata was right. He knew too well that had Yata not shown up, he'd have been killed.

"I can't believe you took that mission," Yata said, lowering his voice. "You knew how strong those guys were."

"You don't turn down a mission," Fushimi said.

"No, YOU don't turn down a mission. And your King knows it. He took advantage of you!" Yata protested. "Are you ok with that?"

"What if I am?"

"Don't you value your life?" Yata said, his voice growing frantic.

"Some things are bigger than…" Me? You? Us? Anyone? Fushimi wasn't sure.

"Neither Anna or Mikoto would ever ask me to do something like what you did," Yata said.

"I'm not going to argue with you. I did what I deemed to be right. We're a part of different clans, we're not going to share every ideal," Fushimi said, trying to keep his tone low.

"I just don't understand… how could you put your clansman's life at risk like that?"

"Well it was worth the risk in the end. We accomplished what we set out to do. And for the record… it would appear that the Captain had plenty of safeguards in place," Fushimi muttered, coming to this realization as he said it. Munakata had given Yata the information necessary for him to act, and he'd also paid Douhan to come in after him as well. He really must have trusted Fushimi to keep his word, though by the time he'd stormed out of SCEPTER 4, even he'd began to wonder how true his own words for the Captain were.

"Hey, Saruhiko," Yata said, his tone becoming very timid as he looked up from his lap, red faced. "About what you just said… how we're not going to share every ideal… that doesn't matter, right? I'm tired of not knowing you…"

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he seemed to have chosen his words carefully, and left it at that.

Fushimi stared at the Red clansman. The person that his world had once revolved around. Who was he kidding? His world still revolved around Yata. He didn't spend time with him anymore, but not a day passed in which he didn't think about him. His actions, his tactics, his decisions, they all revolved around Yata somehow. And yet Yata had hurt him so badly. He had been the first person that he'd really let get close to him, and just like that, Yata had chosen someone else. True, Mikoto was dead, but there was no reason it couldn't happen again if he let himself get close to Yata again.

"Saruhiko."

Fushimi looked up at the sound of his name.

"You have to tell me things. Make me understand." Yata said.

Fushimi felt uncomfortable; it was as if Yata was reading his mind.

"There's so much I don't understand. And I don't know if you refuse to say it, or if I'm just too stupid to see it. But I think if we both want to make it work…" Yata's voice trailed off as he stared hopefully at Fushimi, waiting for him to say something.

For years he had isolated himself. It was so much easier not having to rely on anyone, not having to trust that someone was going to keep their word. Was it worth it? He'd spent such a long time building up his walls, and now he was comfortably seated within them, each a carefully constructed masterpiece fueled by lies, betray and deceit. But with each wall, he blocked out the chance that any of those misfortunes might befall him again. And yet here was Yata, threatening to tear it all down. It sounded daunting, the prospect of rebuilding all that he had worked for.

And yet he saw the way others interacted. He'd watched his staff at SCEPTER 4 bond and enjoy themselves amongst one another. A small part of him had wanted a taste of it, but a much large part of him did not. He had tasted it before, and just when he'd opened his arms to it, it recoiled and exploded in his face, ruining him and teaching him that no matter how attractive it might look, it wasn't worth it. It was so much easier to be alone.

So why couldn't he say no? Why couldn't he simply turn down the auburn haired boy sitting in the chair next to him? He had rejected so many others so easily.

He knew it was because he had known this life. He'd known it, relished it, and lost it. He knew it couldn't be the same as it was before. You can't replay history. He wasn't foolish enough to believe that he could. But somehow, there was still a glimpse of light. An echo of a whisper telling him that maybe a new script could be drafted, a new story written. He certainly had all of the required knowledge and tools.

He looked up, and found Yata trembling in front of him. "I want my best friend back," he said, barely able to speak as he was so close to tears. "Please."

Fushimi looked into his eyes and felt a tightness across his chest, like his heart was breaking. He knew it wasn't the case, because his heart hadn't been whole in the first place. But either way, he knew what he wanted.

A simple nod, and a half smile was all that was necessary to reduce Yata to a sobbing mess, his tears flowing freely onto Fushimi's sheets as he bawled into the Blue's side.

"Come on," Fushimi said quietly, hearing the wavering in his own voice, "remember what I said about the crying."

"Shut up! Twice today I thought I was going to lose you! And all because you had to risk your fucking life for the mission. Dammit Saruhiko! Don't do that anymore!"

"Mm," Fushimi mumbled.

"There's so much more I want to say," Yata sniffled, regaining his composure, "but I don't think now is the time."

"You're probably right." Fushimi replied, feeling like he couldn't handle anymore emotional drama.

"Just promise me I'll get the chance."

"Assuming I don't stroke out and die here, there will be as many chances as you want," Fushimi said.

"Don't say that," Yata scolded noncommittally, rubbing his eyes.

"My bad."

"Saru, will you come back to the apartment with me?"

"What?" Fushimi said, not entirely sure if he'd heard that correctly.

"I mean… you don't have to come permanently… if you don't want, but maybe just… while you're recovering? You're going to need help, right? And we'll have lots of time to talk."

"Oh," Fushimi said automatically. He pondered the thought. He'd walked by the apartment more times than he could count in the previous years, so many times wishing he could just enter through those doors. But never once did he stop to knock. Maybe it was the painkillers, and perhaps he would come to regret this later, but the answer was obvious to him. "I don't see why not."

And once again, it was enough to reduce Yata to a teary fit.

Fushimi simply heaved a loud sigh, and Yata cleaned up pretty quickly.

"Do you know how long you'll be here? I should clean up the place."

"And maybe check in with your clan? Get some sleep? Get a shower?"

"Right, those things," Yata said, seeming far more upbeat.

"Emphasis on the sleep. I'm not dealing with you crying all over me all weekend," Fushimi pointed out.

As though on cue, a doctor rounded the corner with a small bin full of supplies.

"Fushimi Saruhiko? I'm Dr. Green."

Yata and Fushimi locked eyes in disbelief. Neither of them could handle any more Green for the time being.

"Sorry, and this is…?" The doctor gestured to Yata.

"I'm – "

"He's leaving," Fushimi cut him off. "I'll call you later."

"Right, see you," Yata said, jumping to his feet and heading for the door.

"Friend of yours?" Dr. Green asked, piling the contents from the bin on top of Fushimi's monitor.

"You could say that…" Fushimi replied quietly.

"Alright, well we're hoping to get you out of here later today assuming no complications, but we need to run some images on that leg. I have an IV here for you, so we'll set that up and then I'll be back in about twenty minutes to take you for the tests."

Fushimi watched uninterestedly as Dr. Green located a vein in which to insert the IV, and then hardly felt it when the thick catheter was forced into the chosen vein.

Normally Fushimi hated needles, but he found that today he was too exhausted to care. Somewhere between nearly bleeding to death, his king nearly dying, all the drama with the Slates and then with Yata, his mind had become too exhausted to be bothered with much else.

The doctor set the needle, taped it in place, then left the room.

Sighing, Fushimi leaned back against the bed and willed his body to relax. With some difficulty because of all the wires, he pulled his glasses off and tossed them in his lap. Exhausted, he rubbed his tired the back of his right hand.

It wasn't until he pulled his hand away that he noticed the teardrops.

Perhaps everything was catching up to him.


	2. Chapter 2

"Just right this way, sir."

The voice came from around the corner, and it was as though the speed of sound had slowed temporarily, and instantly the blue king was standing in his doorway.

"Fushimi-kun," Munakata acknowledged, nodding in Fushimi's direction. He turned to peer around the corner, "please give us a minute.'

Fushimi instinctively raised his hand to his face in attempt to hide any evidence of his momentary breakdown.

Unfortunately he'd been too slow, and his Captain's brown knit with concern. He couldn't blame him; he didn't often lose his composure. But the look of concern quickly turned to one of understanding. Fushimi knew, after all, he was not the only one who had had a trying day.

Fushimi pushed his glasses up his nose, and the first thing he noticed was the bruise forming on his King's left cheek. His expression must have given away his concern, and Munakata smiled, putting a hand to his cheek.

"It turns out Awakshima-kun was not terribly amused by the prospect of having to kill me, had my sword fallen.

"Awashima did that?!" Fushimi gasped, disbelief clear across his face.

"We've all had an emotional day. I wont' be holding it against her."

Fushimi didn't reply. It was hardly his place to say anything against Awashima, given the exchange that had taken place between himself and Munakata before he'd joined JUNGLE. Even now, he wasn't sure how much of that was acting.

Munakata moved around Fushimi's bed and approached him.

"I can't express how grateful I am for everything you did. As usual, the quality of your work is astounding, and I must express my highest regards."

"I simply completed the mission," Fushimi replied.

"And for that I owe you more than I have to offer."

"I wouldn't have made it out if it wasn't for you…" Fushimi said carefully. "I didn't do it all on my own."

"I wouldn't have made it in without you. And the plan would have likely failed. As for your escape from the building… both Hirasaka Douhan and Yata Misaki were eager to offer their assistance when they heard of what you had done. I did not force either of their actions."

Fushimi chose not to point out the fact that he paid Douhan, leaving him to whatever sentiment he was getting at.

There was a long awkward pause, before Munakata finally asked him how he was doing.

"Physically, I mean," Munakata added, inferring that his mental well being was too frail for discussion at this time. Then again, given the state that Munakata found him in, perhaps he was right.

"Pain killers are very effective," Fushimi said, leaving it at that.

"I understand you were stabbed," Munakata said, glancing down at Fushimi's leg before picking up a clipboard from the shelf on which his monitor sat.

"You could say that," Fushimi said sullenly. "I was hit when my own knife was deflected back at me."

"Most impressive," Munakata replies, still reading the chart, "it is rare to find one as quick as you, even more unusual to find one quicker."

Fushimi wasn't sure if Munakata was egging him on or not, so Fushimi chose not to reply.

Munakata went to sit down, and stopped, glancing down at the chair. "Ah, it appears Yata Misaki already made it here," he said, holding up the dark toque.

"He did." Fushimi affirmed.

"He seemed rather troubled for your well being. Did he not find you in the basement?"

"He did. He had to leave after we defeated the J-rank to complete his own mission."

"I see," Munakata replied, eyeing Fushimi momentarily before obviously deciding not to pursue the subject further.

"Well, I had just wanted to express how proud I am of you and to thank you for all your hard work. Awashima-kun is in the hall and would like to see you as well, so if we don't require further privacy, I'll allow her in?"

"Wait! Sir… what about your position? What about the Slates? What happens now? What about…" He'd wanted to inquire about his own future with SCEPTER 4, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to ask.

"Ah Fushimi-kun, it's so like you to worry like that when you're in your own state of peril. Worry not, the time will come for us to discuss everything, but as for now, there is nothing that cannot wait until you've recovered your strength."

"Sir! With all due respect, I would like to know the outcome of the mission." Fushimi pleaded, pulling is body forward off his bed, but quickly regretting it, as the stabbing pains returned quickly to his leg.

Munakata caught this out of the corner of his eye and turned to his subordinate.

"Fushimi-kun," he said kindly, Fushimi biting his tongue to keep from gagging on the sappiness in his Captain's voice, "the mission was a success. You are still here, I am still here, let us leave it at that. It has pained me not knowing of your well being over the previous weeks. Please grant me the peace of mind of knowing that you are now looked after."

Fushimi clicked his tongue, and gave a simple "yes sir."

"May I allow Awashima-kun in?"

"Sir…" Fushimi began quietly, not meeting Munakata's eye, unsure of how to approach this subject. He knew if he said nothing it would continue to bother him.

"Fushimi-kun?" Munakata asked curiously.

"About that night… when I stormed off…"

"Ah, I had hoped to have this conversation with you when you were in a better state of mind, but it's only natural that you may feel some distress about it."

"I'm not distressed – "

Munakata raised his hand to cut Fushimi off, a small smile on his face. "Please, hear me out."

Fushimi fell silent.

"As soon as you approached me that evening, I understood. It was not that I doubted your acting abilities, but I knew it would be most effective if even you were caught off guard by my words. I've gone over what I said perhaps a thousand times since that day, and still I cannot come up with an alternative scenario. But please know, everything I said was an act and that I'm deeply sorry that I had to hurt you like that."

You're used to being a traitor anyway.

The words rang again, as they so often did, in Fushimi's mind. Yet somehow, perhaps because of how overwhelming the day had been, they hadn't entered his mind today, not until now. And for some reason, they stung a little less. Fushimi wanted to think it was because of what Munakata had just said to him, but he had a feeling there was more to it. Yata's words earlier that day… how he said he wasn't a traitor, and that the Blue King was really his King all along meant more than anything.

"You shouldn't worry about things like that." Fushimi said simply. He knew his reaction that night to the Blue King's words had said it all, and he couldn't deny that the words had gotten to him.

"But I have, and I do. However as I said, the mission was successful. So none of it was in vain. But again, I am truly sorry, Fushimi-kun."

"Me too," he said quietly.

"Thank you, Fushimi-kun. Now let us put everything behind us. Awashima-kun, you may come in," Munakata called towards the door.

Less than seconds later, an exhausted looking Awashima turned the corner, her hair down about her shoulders and her eyes filled with tears as she mouthed his name, but no words came out. It was like Yata all over again.

Fushimi turned his head away. He wanted to jump off a cliff.

"I must request that any physical anger you feel may materialize in Fushimi-kun's presence be directed at me, for it was me after all that caused this." Munakata said to Awashima.

"I had no idea," she said, "no idea it was all a plan. All an order! Captain, I swear I could…"

Munakata did not move, did not speak, and did not shield himself. He simply pulled his glasses off his face and turned to her.

"How could you ask him to do this," she pleaded. "Fushimi you have no idea how worried about you I've been!"

And before he knew what was happening, she had thrown herself at him in giant teary boob-suffocating mess. Fushimi grit his teeth in pain as she squeezed the life out of him with a hug he suspected would have hurt even if he had been in stellar condition. "I'm sorry you had to go through all of that, Fushimi-kun! I'm sorry the Captain is such a – " but she did not finish her sentence.

As she pulled herself off of him, Fushimi released his tightly clenched jaw and caught his breath.

"Awashima-kun, please remember what I said about physical force. He is in delicate shape."

"I'm fine, don't worry about it," he said to no on in particular. He hated this kind of thing. Pity parties were nearly as attractive to him as children's birthday parties. He hated being the center of attention for something he couldn't control. He hated people fussing over him. He wished they would both just leave it. It was a large part of why he had agreed to go stay with Yata when he was released from the hospital. Yata knew not to fuss more than necessary, though he still probably would. At least with Yata, Fushimi could come up with as many different colors of fuck off in as many different languages as he could remember. While it was still unappealing with Yata, it was nothing compared to this pair.

"Please excuse me, sir," Awashima said to Munakata, composing herself and stepping back from Fushimi. "I'm so glad you're ok, and so glad you're still on our side," she said, a smile coming through. "When you left that night… I was so worried…" she sobbed again, but this time she seemed to have herself und control. "It was the first time I realized that despite all your extraordinary work, you're still just a kid. And we put you through so much…"

Fushimi thought about interjecting, pointing out the fact that he was hardly a 'kid' as she called him, but decided against it. Instead he stared down at the inside of his elbow where the nurse had poked him twice before managing to get the needle into a vein. There was a monstrous bruise growing making him look like more and more of a heroine addict. He was sure the dark circles around his eyes and lack of colour in his skin were only adding to that appearance.

"Well, I think we ought to let Fushimi-kun get some rest," Munakata said, obviously sensing his discomfort.

"Are you sure? I can stay with you if you'd like," Awashima offered.

"I'm fine," he replied, careful not to jump the gun too quickly.

"Well I'm not going to say that I like how you boys did things or went behind my back, but you accomplished the task, so I will say good work for that. Fushimi-kun, call me if you need anything. I'll be at headquarters when you return to see to anything you need."

"Thanks," he said, his words sounding empty, but he hardly cared.

"I'll meet you back at the station," Munakata said to Awashima, and she took her leave. "Would I be correct in believing that you won't be returning to headquarters immediately?" Munakata asked him.

Fushimi looked up. He had a way of knowing things, or rather deducing them. "Yeah, I was going to go and stay with… a friend for a while."

"Not a problem. I'll arrange transportation for you."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now excuse me while I go find your doctor," Munakata said, pushing his glasses up his nose in his typical business like manner and exiting the room before Fushimi was able to reply.

Fushimi watched him go, wondering how much of this parental act was in compensation for sending him off to JUNGLE. He really wished he would just drop it. He'd completed the mission he'd been asked to, now he just wanted to be left alone.

Approximately five hours, two different imaging tests, three different IVs, 15 stitches, and about 13 visits from the blue king later, Fushimi was given strict orders to stay off of his leg for at least a week and was sent home. He'd been given a stack of paper work, which had been explained to him, though most of it just went in one ear and out the other, as well as a few different prescriptions. He allowed Munakata to pack everything into the backpack he'd brought him before following him down the elevator out of the building on his new set of crutches.

"Saruhiko!" The voice sounded much more radiant and far less distressed than it had earlier. It was dark outside, but it was impossible to miss that bright red hair as he came rolling towards him on his skateboard.

"Yata Misaki," Munakata addressed him.

"Eh?" Yata was obviously caught off guard by his presence. His expression quickly changed to a worried one, and he obviously thought he was going to have to argue to have Fushimi leave with him rather than the Blue Captain.

Munakata however stopped him, smiled, handed him the backpack he'd been carrying for Fushimi, and gestured to the black car waiting on the curb. "Take good care of him," he said kindly.

"Oh," Yata said in surprise, "Thanks, I will." He shouldered the backpack and made his way to the car.

"Fushimi-kun, I'll see you soon."

"Sir," Fushimi nodded. Munakata took his leave, and the driver, dressed in a SCEPTER 4 uniform opened the door for Fushimi.

The short ride home was silent for the most part, the Blue driving the car glaring daggers at Yata the entire time. Fushimi chose not to acknowledge his existence, assuming that he was under strict order not to ask Fushimi any questions.

When the driver dropped them off, they still had to face that Yata was not living in the most convenient location.

"You still live on the fourth floor, don't you?" Fushimi asked, sagging into his crutches further, still feeling the effects of the drugs he'd been on as well as the pain in his leg.

"Yeah, I do," Yata said.

"And would I be correct in assuming that there is still no elevator?"

"Yes, you would," Yata said. "I can carry you if you like," he joked.

Fushimi decided against arguing, reluctantly deciding to conserve as much energy as possible for the trek up the stairs. It wouldn't be the first time he had dragged himself up these stairs with injuries. Having been part of the Vanguard of HOMRA for a period of time, the two of them often came home with cuts and bruises, none quite as debilitating as this though.

"Well let's see how far you make it," Yata said light heartedly, "I can always bring you down a blanket and you can try for the top floor tomorrow."

"You are hilarious," Fushimi said in a bitterly flat tone. He turned and stared expectantly at Yata in front of the door. Yata quickly opened it, and Fushimi made for the stairs.

In all it only took him about eight minutes to reach the top, and only two major breaks were necessary. Even so, Fushimi was panting and sweating by the time he got to the top, and he was certain that if he didn't lie down soon he was either going to pass out, or the wound on his leg was going to open up, which would likely result in the same end.

"You get the bed," Yata said, nodding to the corner of the studio apartment where the double bed sat perfectly made. Fushimi didn't think he'd ever seen Yata make his bed before.

"What happened to the other one?" Fushimi asked, making his way to the bed. He wanted so badly just to crawl into it and fall asleep.

"Kusanagi sold it when I told him I didn't want another roommate." Yata said.

"Mm, I suppose it might be awkward when you bring someone home from the bar. They could get the wrong idea, like you just want to be friends or something."

"Shut up," Yata replied, but his tone was light. "Alright, I'm taking care of you, but we've got a couple of rules."

"Oh, I can't wait. No drawing on the wall? No juice after 8?"

"Shut up," Yata emphasized.

Fushimi dropped his crutches unceremoniously to the floor and climbed onto the bed, legs still hanging over the side, and stared back at Yata.

"You follow any directions the doctors gave you. And you have to let me look at all your paperwork."

"Uh huh," Fushimi said uninterestedly.

"Look, I know you hate this, all of this. I know how much you like being unable to do shit for yourself. I'm not gonna baby you, but when I ask you a question, I want an honest answer. Ok?"

Fushimi didn't respond. He'd been through Yata trying to look after him before when he'd been sick or injured, and he knew how much Yata worried and he always managed to blow things out of proportion. But he had to appreciate Yata's efforts now. Maybe he did understand…

"Is that fair?"

"Got it," he said, trying to retain his bored tone, but finding harder than expected.

"Alright, get in bed."

Fushimi glanced around him, locating the stack of pillows behind him before grabbing two and propping them under his leg. Ignoring the duvet on the bed, he pulled the folded throw blanket from the bottom of the bed over himself and got settled.

"Did you sleep at all at the hospital?" Yata asked, now sounding far less accusing than before.

"Nope," Fushimi said. The nurses hadn't let him sleep as they were insistent that he may have concussion and had to check him every half hour or so. Anything serious had apparently been ruled out since they had after all let him go.

"Papers are in the backpack," Fushimi said, adjusting himself again, trying to get comfortable.

Yata picked up the backpack and pulled out the plastic bag filled with papers and medications. "Have you taken any of this yet?"

"I don't know what they pumped me full of while I was there, but I have not swallowed any pills," Fushimi replied, yawning.

Yata didn't take his eyes off of him. "You should get some sleep."

"Mmm probably," Fushimi said, pulling the blankets higher up over his face. "What time is it?"

"Eight thirty in the morning," Yata said. "It's not getting any darker in here." He turned off the lights he had on, but the sun was still shining through the closed blinds, illuminating the room.

Yata crossed the bedroom and pulled open the drawer of the nightstand, retrieving a black eye mask. "Here," he said, tossing it at Fushimi, "Totsuka gave it to me when I was having trouble sleeping."

Fushimi picked up at and stared at it. "What are you, a fourteen year old girl?"

Yata looked like he was going to shoot back, but stopped himself.

Fushimi broke the silence once more, realizing Yata was not going to bite. "Why were you having trouble sleeping?"

"Don't worry about it," Yata said meekly, "get some sleep, ok?"

Fushimi dropped his eyes into his lap once more, turning the eye mask over a couple more times in examination before apparently finding nothing wrong with it and pulling his glasses off and replacing them with the mask. He could feel Yata's eyes on him as he adjusted himself on the bed, attempting to get as horizontal as possible, squirming to find a more comfortable position.

He could feel his body beginning to ache again, his limbs protesting with any amount of movement. He suspected that whatever he'd been given in the hospital was wearing off and the fatigue was really setting in. He knew he would likely wake up in a world of pain, but he found that he didn't care. He could feel himself drifting off, and waking up to properly take pain killers just didn't seem worth it. Or perhaps it was more than that. It wouldn't be the first time he'd ignored the opportunity to relieve himself from unnecessary pain.

Apparently, old habits died hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Opinions/comments/kudos all greatly appreciated! I potentially have a bit more material to come...


	3. Chapter 3

“Oy! Saru! You awake?”

He sounded annoyed. But it was nothing compared to how Fushimi felt.

“Oy! Wake up!”

He wanted to shout back, to tell him to shut up and leave him alone. But he didn’t have it in him. He felt as though he’d only been asleep for mere minutes.

But as soon as he tried to roll his head to the left, he realized that no amount of pain could materialize in mere minutes barring physical disaster. And as far as he could remember, he hadn’t encountered anything during his sleep that would result in whiplash.

The more he moved, the more he came to the realization that everything hurt. His head, his arms, his back, his neck and especially his leg were all aching profusely. He could feel the upper portion of his right leg throbbing and pulsing as though he was bleeding out. His automatic instinct was to grasp his hand to his leg to stem some of the pain, but he knew it was pointless, and would likely only result in more pain to his arm. Instead he used said arm to pull the eye mask off his face and allowed his eyes to slowly adjust to the light pouring into the still darkened room.

“You were supposed to start taking these immediately,” Yata said, approaching him with what he assumed to be a handful of pills. All he could make out was a big blob with fiery red hair moving towards him.

Fushimi didn’t move, he simply shifted his eyes up in the direction of Yata’s face and stared at him like a zombie.

“Take them, idiot, it will help with the pain.” Yata said, shoving his hand into Fushimi’s face. He could roughly make out a glass of water in his other hand.

Fushimi stared at Yata a minute longer, before he finally forced his elbows up behind him and pulled himself painfully into a partially upright position. He managed to keep from whimpering out loud, but he was certain that the pain was written all over his face as he forced himself to sit up.

“I shouldn’t have let you sleep so long,” Yata said quietly, handing him his glasses.

Fushimi could see the worry plain on Yata’s face as his vision cleared and he took the pills wordlessly and washed them down with the water. Even swallowing hurt.

“What?” Yata said, as Fushimi simply stared back at him after handing the glass of water back to Yata.

“Stop looking at me like that!” He tried to yell, but it came out as more of a scratchy whine making him sound like a chain smoker.

“Like what?” Yata asked innocently.

“Like I’m dying,” Fushimi said angrily, forcing a little more energy into his words this time around.

“Don’t give me that shit,” Yata spat back, “did you listen to anything the doctor put in those reports?!”

Fushimi didn’t respond. He hadn’t heard an ounce of what the doctor had said, nor had he bothered to look at any of the paperwork he’d been given. His sole focus had been to get to a bed where he could sleep and not be asked to move for several hours. So much for that.

Yata sighed loudly in frustration, returning to the couch. He looked at Fushimi like he was going to say something, but obviously decided against it after getting a better look at him. Fushimi wished he would just say whatever it was he was thinking. This was exactly what he hated, being treated differently because of some sort of ailment. Being treated like he was fragile or going to break. He hated it… almost as much as he hated not being able to do things for himself and having to rely on someone else.

“So what does it say?” Fushimi said quietly, his mind still clear enough to properly comprehend the information this time. He knew the pills he’d just swallowed would re-cloud his mind soon.

“Aside from the bruised ribs, muscle strains in your neck and back, mild concussion and severe blood loss? You are severely malnourished and underweight.” Yata dropped the paper and glared at Fushimi. “Severely malnourished, Saruhiko?! You were infiltrating another organization, not staking out Africa! When are you going to learn to take care of yourself??”

Yata sounded frantic and worried. And Fushimi did _not_ have the energy for this right now.

“I had a mission to complete,” he said quietly, “Nutrition wasn’t exactly at the top of priority list.”

“It’s never been at the top of your priority list! Is this what happens when no one is around to feed you?”

“Can we cut this lecture short please? I’m not really – ” But his words were cut off as he grit his teeth against a blinding pain that shot up his side. His arms gave out and he fell back against the pillows.

He felt the bed sag under Yata’s weight, and there was a hand on his shoulder. “Relax,” Yata said quietly, and in a much calmer tone that Fushimi had expected. “The more you tense the more it’s going to hurt.”

Fushimi attempted to do as he was told, unclenching his jaw and taking slow breaths until the pain regressed and he was able to open his eyes.

He found Yata staring down at him worriedly, but he quickly turned away. “The pills you just took were a painkiller and a muscle relaxant. You’re supposed to take the pain killers every 2-4 hours, alternating with another kind they gave you. And I’m making you lunch. As long as you’re here, you’re eating by my diet. You’re body can’t recover if you don’t provide it with proper nutrients. No complaints, Mr. Severely malnourished, got it?”

Fushimi stared after him as he moved to the stove to stir a large pot.

“You might not care about your own health,” Yata said, not turning to look at him, “but I do, and I can’t lose you again.” His words were quiet, as if he might cry. He was grateful that he couldn’t see Yata’s face.

Fushimi wanted to retort back, but once again he found he couldn’t do it. Somehow just being here, listening to Yata fuss while trying not to fuss, took him back to place he’d spent so much time away from.

It was comforting.

He lied there for a while, simply watching Yata move around the kitchen, stirring spices into whatever he was cooking and tasting it occasionally. He could feel the drugs slowly overtaking his body and his mind, and everything was getting foggy. He didn’t like it. The pain relief was great, but he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to stand the blurriness in his head. It made him feel dopey and like he didn’t have control over himself. He would deal with it temporarily, since spouting off like an idiot in front of Yata wasn’t exactly the end of the world, but he’d be weaning off the meds as soon as humanly possible.

Yata glanced over his shoulder, obviously checking on Fushimi, and quickly turned back to the stove as he realized he was being watched.

“Have you slept?” Fushimi asked, his voice echoing in his own ears. He sounded like he had his head in a fishbowl, like his ears were plugged or something.

“A couple of hours before I came to get you,” Yata said.

“Aren’t you kind of banged up too?” Fushimi asked, vaguely remembering the nurse checking him over in the hospital.

“Not really,” Yata said, “Just cuts and bruises. You’re going to have to sit up to eat this.”

His head was growing fuzzier by the minute, so Fushimi figured he should be able to sit up without too much trouble or pain.

It turned out the hardest part was getting his exhausted and heavily drugged body to comply with his demands, and it felt like an extreme task to pull his elbows up underneath himself again and slide his body backwards against the bed frame. His neck hurt the worst, and he found that it really didn’t want to support his head. He still couldn’t turn it from side to side either.

“What is it?” Fushimi asked as he watched Yata ladle something into a bowl.

“It doesn’t matter what it is. You better eat it,” Yata said, pulling a spoon out of the drawer and dropping it into the bowl.

Whatever it was, it smelled good. He couldn’t help but wonder though, would it still smell good if he wasn’t starving half to death? It was probably a good thing right now, since no matter how many disgusting vegetables were placed in front of him, Yata was going to make him eat them. At least this way he was hungry enough that it would taste half decent.

“It’s a stew. There’s lots of meat in it, and I cut the vegetables really small so you can just swallow them,” Yata said, placing a tray across Fushimi’s lap. He’d put some bread on a small plate next to the bowl. “Just make sure you eat it all, please,” Yata said, any hint of anger gone from his voice.

He tried to sit up further, attempting to cross his legs underneath him, but his right leg throbbed in protest, so instead he kept his legs straight and awkwardly leaned over the bowl. The steam from the hot stew fogged up his glasses, obstructing his vision. Perhaps it was better that way, since he needed to eat everything regardless of what is was or he thought Yata just might cry.

The first blind bite burned his tongue slightly, but it tasted wonderful. He could feel the consistency of the cooked carrots and celery that he despised so much, but he quickly swallowed them and focused on the flavor. The more he ate, the more it warmed him from the inside out.

“How is it?” Yata asked hesitantly, sitting down on the couch with his own bowl.

“You did well, Misaki,” Fushimi smirked. “Don’t ask me to say it again.”

A huge grin found its way across Yata’s face. Fushimi was not one to offer compliments very frequently.

“I’m watching you,” Yata teased, “eat your potatoes dammit!”

Fushimi had been deliberately eating around the potatoes, strongly disliking the texture.

“You need the carbs!” Now he sounded more serious.

Fushimi stared back at him, putting a chunk of potato in his mouth, allowing Yata to watch his face twist in disgust.

“Fine, at least eat the bread then.”

It really wasn’t that bad. The potatoes had been cooked long enough that they pretty well just dissolved in his mouth, and any parts that didn’t slid down his throat quite easily.

It became evident that in the absence of eating properly, at least by his standards, over the last few weeks, his stomach had shrunk several sizes and it was a struggle to finish even a regular sized bowl of stew. Yata didn’t say anything, but he watched him quite closely, looking away as Fushimi looked up, until he’d eaten everything including the two pieces of bread.

As he finished, he slowly adjusted the pillows behind him slightly and lied back, relaxing his aching neck. “Was my laptop in that backpack?” He asked, enjoying the feeling of a finally settled, full stomach.

“It was…” Yata said, “why?”

“Because you need to sleep, and I’m going to get bored,” he grumbled.

“I don’t want you working, you need to relax.”

“Fine, I won’t do any work,” he lied, “can I please have it?”

Yata glared at him suspiciously, pulling the laptop and power cable out of the backpack and swapping it with the tray full of now empty dishes. “I’m serious, Saruhiko, you need to rest.”

“Yessss Misaki.”

It only took a minute to power on the computer, only to find that all of his links to the SCEPTER 4 program and database had been removed. In the icon’s usual place, there was a file labeled ‘read me’. He hesitantly clicked on it, fighting the urge to simply slam the computer shut in a fit of rage. He hated people invading his personal space.

_Fushimi,_

_I’m glad you are feeling well enough to use you computer. However, I know how like you it would be to attempt to return to work, if not physically, then remotely, before you are properly recovered. For that reason, I have disabled your remote access and temporarily blocked your WIFI access._

“WHAT!”

_This machine will simply serve as an entertainment center for the time being. This folder contains several movies, books and games that Akiyama-kun was kind enough to load. Take care of yourself, and try not to give Yata Misaki too much trouble. His heart is in the right place._

_-R_

“That bastard!”

Yata was looking up curiously from his sink filled with dishes. “What’s up?”

“There you go, Misaki, I couldn’t do any work even if I wanted to. The idiot disabled my access. I can’t even get on the internet!”

“Way to go Blue King!” Yata smirked. “Wait, you call your king an idiot?”

“All the time. He’s always pulling shit like this, thinking he knows what’s best.” Fushimi was beyond angry.

“He probably does know what’s best. You may be brilliant, Saruhiko, but you aren’t capable of taking care of yourself. Or maybe you are capable and just choose not to.”

“I am perfectly capable,” he shot back. “I’m not dead yet, am I?”

“No thanks to you,” Yata said quietly.

“Some things take greater priority.”

“I don’t think we should be talking about this right now,” Yata replied. Fushimi was getting seriously worked up.

“I’m going to die of boredom!”

“Don’t you have anything on there aside from work stuff?”

“Yeah, a folder full of movies that that idiot Akiyama selected. Oh my God! The Time Traveller’s Wife, The Fault in our Stars, Brokeback Mountain?! I’m actually going to kill him.”

Yata was holding back his own laughter.

“Shut up!” Fushimi yelled.

“Relax or I’m taking that away from you,” Yata ordered, obviously trying to wipe the grin off his face and sound serious.

Fushimi glared daggers back at him. How he wished he hadn’t lost all of his knives.

“My Gameboy is in the drawer beside you, and there’s a bunch of manga in a box on the other side of the bed.”

“Get some sleep, Misaki.”

“Yeah I guess I should,” Yata said, picking up some things off of the coffee table. “Here are your pills,” he said, smacking them down on the night table. “Every four hours alternate between these two. And this one is every eight hours. You took these two last.”

“Got it,” Fushimi said.

“Here, you can have my headphones too,” Yata said, pulling the set of headphones out of the drawer and putting them in Fushimi’s lap. “Just yell if you need me.”

“Goodnight, Misaki,” Fushimi said.

Yata tossed a pillow down on the couch and pulled a blanket up over himself.

Fushimi sat there for about twenty minutes, watching Yata squirm uncomfortably over the top of his laptop screen before he decided he needed to get up. He’d hoped Yata would actually fall asleep so he wouldn’t fuss, but his bladder was demanding that he not wait any longer.

He cursed himself for tossing his crutches on the floor rather than leaning them against the wall, and he was tempted to try to make it to the bathroom without them. However as soon as he got vertical, the blood rushed down his leg and ached profusely, and he immediately decided against it.

Yata flopped around again, and Fushimi decided he was probably awake.

“Misaki,” he said in a low flat tone.

Yata jumped, turning over quickly to face Fushimi. He looked wide awake.

“Quit flopping around on that couch like an idiot. Pass me my crutches and get your ass in the bed,” Fushimi said quietly, yet in a commanding manner.

“Where are you going?” Yata asked, standing up hesitantly.

“The bathroom.”

“Oh,” Yata said, hopping up to help now that he knew Fushimi wasn’t going anywhere.

Fushimi did his best to ignore the pain as his legs drop over the side of the bed. Yata stood his crutches up for him and he dragged himself into a standing position in what was probably the most ungraceful series of movements he’d ever made. Those muscle relaxants were definitely doing their job. He felt Yata’s eyes on him, but he held true to his word and didn’t fuss. At least not vocally anyway. Fushimi was certain that if he looked up he’d find Yata’s face twitching like a crack head.

“Get in bed,” Fushimi said as he steadied himself on the crutches and began hobbling toward the bathroom. “Seriously! If you aren’t horizontal by the time I get back I’m going to use these things to take your legs out from under you and make you lie down.”

It took him longer than usual to conduct his business, but after splashing water on his face, he left the bathroom to find Yata sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Where are you going to lie down?” Yata asked.

“Right where you’re sitting,” Fushimi replied, hobbling back towards the bed.

“Are you sure you’re ok with that?” Yata said nervously. Fushimi could see how tense his shoulders were

“Because it would be the first time we shared a bed…”

“Ok then,” Yata said, standing up.

“Get in bed!” Fushimi said as loudly as he could.

“I’m waiting for you!”

“I’m fine. Lie down and go to sleep.”

“Ok ok.” Yata sounded like he was trying to be mad, but somehow he couldn’t. Fushimi hoped that when he woke up, he would be acting more like his normal, irritating self.

Yata did as he was told, lying down on the far side of the bed, and Fushimi backed himself against the bed and dropped down from his crutches, letting them fall to the floor. He was sincerely hoping he wouldn’t need to get up again for the rest of the day. He used his last ounce of energy to pulls his legs back onto the bed, and within minutes, he was asleep again.


End file.
